


The Queen She Truly Is

by chiquislover25



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Because that was and continues to be dumb, F/M, Jon hurts himself in frustration, She will always be MY QUEEN, boat baby, no Mad Queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-15 01:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21245519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiquislover25/pseuds/chiquislover25
Summary: Let it be fear then... When he heard those words he feared the worst. But she proved him wrong and rejecting her was his biggest mistake.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Everyone! Procrastination is great for writing! Not really but I needed to take my mind away from my school work. This will only be a two-shot (I think). 
> 
> This story came to mind a while back but I never finished it but now I did (at least the first part) 
> 
> Please enjoy!

_Let it be fear then…_

When she has muttered those words to him after his rejection, he feared what she would do. That she would burn down the entire city. Tyrion feared the same as well.

But she didn’t. She destroyed the weapons and the fleet and accepted the surrender of the city with minimal bloodshed. She once again proved them wrong.

He also expected her to go straight to the Red Keep to claim her throne. Instead, she flew away to Dragonstone, leaving orders with Greyworm to capture Cersei and help the people of Kings Landing with food and water.

She was being the queen he heard from Missandei, Greyworm, and her people. She was being the queen they had chosen. The one he had chosen at one point as well.

And now he was going to her to try to make amends. She’s in her study and he’s escorted by her blood riders until their arrival at her door. They announce him and he walks in, finding her surrounded by papers and seems to be hard at work and a little girl standing next to her eager to receive orders.

“Your Grace,” he starts, not entirely sure how to address her. “We’ve managed to complete your orders.”

But she continues to work, seeming to have not heard him.

“My Queen,” he says.

“I heard you, my lord and you are free to go,” she says not looking up from her work.

“What?” he asks confused.

“You fulfilled your word to me, my Lord. You may now return home with your troops. I'll send a personal raven to the Northern lords thanking them for their soldiers and that once winter ends, I will contact them again in regard to the North’s future. In the meantime they will be part of the Seven Kingdoms and will receive the help they need to survive Winter,” she says still not looking at him.

“Dany…”

“You are dismissed,” she interrupts finally looking up at him. “You may return to your family. They must be worried and expecting your return. And you must be anxious to go back home. I will be forever grateful for what you have done and as a token of my gratitude I give you this,” she hands a scroll to the child and she gives it to him.

“What is it?” he asks afraid to open it.

“In what feels like a different life, you revealed to me that you always wanted to be a Stark. As Queen, I’ve decided to give you that,” she reveals.

Legitimization.

“I'm not a Stark,” he mutters.

“Now you are. Just present it to your sisters so you all can inform the Northerners. You now have everything you could want my Lord, a name, a family and your freedom to do as you wish. But if you excuse me, I have work to do,” she says before looking down.

“Dany," he tries to get her attention but she doesn’t bother giving him a second glance.

“May the winds be kind to you, my Lord, and may you enjoy the rest of your life.”

He felt like he had been stabbed again. Her cold indifference to him crushed him.

He doesn’t get to speak to her again as he’s escorted out of the room.

That happened months ago.

Now he’s back at Winterfell, trying to find some semblance of happiness but failing to do so. His relationship with his siblings was nearly nonexistent. He couldn’t forgive Sansa's betrayal, her oath-breaking. Arya was almost a complete stranger if he’s honest. And Bran wasn’t really his brother anymore.

There they were the last of the Starks.

_But I'm not a Stark._

No, he was a Targaryen and he was all alone up here in the North, missing the one he loves. It took him too long to realize that and now it was too late.

They're all in the Godswood, he’s not sure why. Bran had just asked them all to come. They had been standing for a while until they see Bran smile, something that never happens nowadays.

“What is it Bran?” he asks confused by his brother’s reaction.

A raven then lands in the Godswood with a message tied to its leg. As Sansa takes the message, he recognizes the seal.

Three-Headed Dragon

“What does it say?” Arya asks as he turns away, trying to ignore how much seeing that seal hurts.

“Queen Daenerys Targaryen, First of Her Name, is proud to announce the birth of her s…” Sansa stumbles, getting his attention. “Her son and heir Jaehaerys Targaryen…”

He freezes.

He doesn’t even hear the rest of the message as his mind focuses on two words.

_Her son…_

He looks up and sees the all-knowing look on Bran’s face and the smile that hasn’t left either.

“You knew.”

“Of course, I did. I’ve known since she discovered her pregnancy after the Battle of Winterfell,” Bran answers as if it’s the most obvious thing.

She knew since she was in Winterfell.

_Are you drunk?_

Gods…

“She went to you that night to tell you. Even though she was mourning the loss of her people, of Ser Jorah she was happy knowing she was going to have a child with the man she loved. But you couldn’t love her back,” Bran says almost accusatory.

“I needed time…” he tries to defend his actions.

“And she gave you time. She sent you with her armies instead of letting you fly with her and took Rhaegal so you wouldn’t be burdened with a reminder of being a Targaryen,” Bran explains.

She lost Rhaegal because of me_. _

A nod from Bran confirms his thoughts.

“Dragonstone… after Kings Landing…” he tries to process

“You proved to her you didn’t love her, at least in her eyes. She begged something of you and you betrayed her, put her life and the life of her son in danger. Why should she tell you about her child?”

“Because that is my son!”

“Can you really be a father to a child you rejected?”

“I have never…”

“You rejected her. The woman you claimed to love more than anything. What difference is there between her and her child? You couldn’t stand the fact that she was your aunt, why would you care for him who is both your son and cousin?”

His head is spinning and he can’t get it to stop. He’s right, Bran’s right. He did push her away, rejected her because she was his aunt… but he still loves her. That never went away. And he loves his son, a child born from their love, a miracle she said was impossible. His knees give in and he practically crumples to the ground releasing sobs he held back since the reveal of his parentage.

“Jon, they’re not one of us. You made the right choice. The child is just a bastard that may not even be yours,” Sansa says placing a hand on his shoulder.

He sees red as he shrugs off the hand and quickly stands, glaring at his sister, fighting every urge to strangle her.

“Don’t you dare call him that!” he yells. “Don't you EVER call him that! That is my son, Sansa and if I ever hear you call him that or question his mother again, I will kill you.”

He starts walking away from them.

“Jon where are you going?” Sansa yells at him.

“Dragonstone, where I never should have left.”

His youngest sister stands in front of him.

“You're home, Jon. You don’t need to go,” Arya says.

He looks at her sadly, taking a deep breath, shaking his head.

“This isn’t my home. It never has been and never will be,” he pushes past her and gets on the first horse he can find.

He refuses to stop.

He rode as hard as he could down South and took the first ship to Dragonstone he could find. When he arrived, her soldiers tried to stop him but couldn’t. There was a burning inside, fire in his flesh that threatened to be released if anyone crossed his path. He remembered the way to her quarters and upon arrival walks through the door with no announcement or warning.

He finds her there sitting in a chair staring towards the sea with a small bundle in her arms. A soft song is leaving her lips and she doesn’t seem to realize that he’s entered the room. At least that’s what he thought.

“Were you anyone else I would have you sent to the dungeons for entering my quarters, my Lord,” she says, standing to face him. “But it is you after all.”

She walks away from him. Towards a small crib near the fire. He’s never seen her so content as she is now. As she places the little bundle into the crib she smiles, a smile that was once reserved just for him.

“So why are you in my presence, Lord Stark?” she says in such an indifferent tone that he feels a stab in his chest.

“I told you before, I'm not a Stark,” he answers, seeming to confuse her.

“I made you one,” she points out.

“As soon as I was escorted out, I threw that scroll into the sea,” he tells her, and he can see her surprise.

“Alright let me rephrase myself. Why are you here, my Lord?”

“Why do you insist on using titles? Is that all I am to you, a lord?” he asks before he can stop himself.

“That’s what you’ve wanted. At one point you were everything to me. I believed I had found a home, a king, a family,” her face full of sadness and resignation. “But that wasn’t to be. You made your choices and I’ve come to finally accept them.”

The little bundle in the crib makes a cooing sound, reminding him of one of the reasons he is here.

“That’s my son,” he declares, trying to hide the hurt her words brought out.

Fire seems to inflame in her eyes at his statement.

“He is mine and mine alone.”

“I am his father,” he continues to push.

“No! If you have made one thing, clear it’s that just because someone’s seed made you it doesn’t mean he’s your father. You’re as much his father as Rhaegar was yours,” she strides towards him fury in her eyes.

“Rhaegar is dead, I'm not. That babe deserves to have a father at his side,” he argues.

“And he will,” she growls at him. “My son’s fathers will be my Bloodriders who will teach him how to mount a horse, how to fight and how to be a man. It will be Grey Worm and the Unsullied who will teach him how to hold a spear and defend those he loves. It will be whoever I decide to marry that won’t be a coward and hide whenever things get difficult and who will actually be there in his life,” she says, breaking the last bit of his heart.

“I didn’t know,” he tries to argue.

“And for good reason! Because of you and your sister we were almost killed,” she growls. “While you were going through your identity crisis, I was carrying my child, with my advisors trying to kill us and those who actually loved me dying.”

“Had you told me…”

“You would have what? Been here? Been here as I was starving myself and my child in order to stay alive? Been here as I bled out on the birthing bed? While I begged Greyworm to take him to Essos where he would be loved, where he wouldn’t turn out as cold and ungrateful as those in the North? No, my Lord, you couldn’t even stand to look at me, much less be at my side when I needed someone,” she vents, and he feels like everything she says was a blow, so much so that he needs to lean on the closest table for support.

He could have lost them both and he wouldn’t have known. He hates it. He hates the fact that he had left them alone, that she thought it was better for their son to be raised in a foreign land by her soldiers than by him had she passed. But above all he hates himself.

“You still should have told me. I would have been here at your side, you wouldn’t have been alone,” trying his best to keep himself together.

“You told me I was not going to be alone when we sailed North and since then I've been nothing but,” she answers, sadness lacing her voice.

“I'm sorry,” he responds and this time he can’t hold back his tears. “I'm so sorry.”

His sadness and disappointment with his actions are net with anger and self-hatred.

He turns to the closest wall and releases all his rage and anger in a single punch. He hears the sound of his bones breaking and feels his blood dripping from where his skin broke.

As the pain of his self-inflicted injury hits him can’t help but let out a cry.

“You fucking idiot!” he says to himself. “You stupid fucking fool! You couldn’t just man up and love her, could you? This is all your fault!”

He slides onto the ground his back to the wall, closes his eyes and slams his head against it repeatedly. He doesn’t realize that Dany has been yelling his name or when it is that she walked closer to him until she grabs his hand and stops his head, causing him to hiss in pain.

Without even a word to him, she quickly calls for one of the guards and orders something in Valyrian.

“I asked for the Maester, your hand needs to be looked at and so does your head,” she explains once the guard leaves.

“No. I deserve it,” he says and before she can argue he interrupts. “I do. I was given a second chance to live and found a woman who actually loved me and who I loved in return,” he says. “And what did I do? Push her away, made her feel like I didn’t care for her when in reality I love her more than anything and would give my life for her in a second.”

He feels himself become lightheaded and he struggles to keep awake.

“Jon, when was the last time you slept or eaten a meal?” she asks.

“Winterfell.”

She calls out again, concern in her voice, but everything goes dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! 1 in the morning and finishing this chapter up! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your comments and kudos! Hopefully, this is a good conclusion for this story, which I think I'll keep as a two-shot. If other things come to mind then I'll post them but for now, this is it. 
> 
> Please Enjoy!

He wakes on a soft bed, his eyesight blurred, but he can see an outline of a person sitting next to him.

“Dany?”

“My hair might be whitening lad, but I'm nowhere near as beautiful as our Queen,” a familiar voice answers.

He quickly rubs his eyes in an attempt to clear them and she sees Ser Davos sitting in the chair with a sad smile on his face.

“Davos?”

“Don’t look so disappointed lad,” the man says with a tease. 

“What… what are you doing here?” he asks, his voice tight from lack of use. His former advisor is quick to pick up on this and pours him a cup of water before bringing it to his lips.

“I’m the Hand of the Queen,” Davos answers and he chokes on the water. “Breathe lad. I can’t have you dying on me.”

“You’re her Hand?” he asks through coughs.

“Aye. One of us needed to take care of the Queen,” Davos says.

He grimaces at the reminder of his failure and Ser Davos seems to regret saying that to him.

“Sorry lad,” he apologizes.

“So, you knew?” he asks.

“I did. She told me everything once she asked me to be her Hand,” he confirms, and he can’t help but close his eyes in shame.

“She should have told me,” he says again, trying to bring back his previous conviction.

“I didn’t agree not letting you know about the babe. I spoke to her multiple times trying to convince her to send for you, but at the end of the day, she is the Queen. She did concede to send the Raven north though,” Davos says, and he sighs. “You fucked up lad. And she knows she did as well.”

This surprises him.

“What?”

“That’s something you should talk to her about, but you need to know you haven’t lost everything just yet. You need to fight for it though.”

“And I will, that’s why I’m here. Where is she?”

“She’s holding court right now. She spent most of the night watching over you, only left to feed the prince,” Davos explains.

He smiles at the mention of his son.

“What is he like?” he needs to ask.

“He’s a strong little lad. Would keep his mother up all night from what she told me,” he says before smiling, “he looks like you. I think that’s why she gave in. You can’t look at that little boy and not see you.”

His eyes water and he attempts to lift his hand to wipe them away but his hand appears to be wrapped and pain goes up his arm, causing him to groan.

“Easy lad. You did a number on your hand and head.”

Before he can answer the door opens and Dany steps into the room. Davos stands and bows.

“Your Grace, I was just about to send for you,” Davos says.

“I’m sure you were, Lord Hand. Could you please leave us alone?” she asks.

“Of course, Your Grace,” the Lord Hand says before leaving the room.

“Davos is your Hand?” he asks trying to break the silence.

“There aren’t many who I can trust, Davos is one of the few I could,” she admits.

Silence fills the room again, as the reasons for her lack of trust cross their minds. Dany stays a few more moments near the door before walking towards him and sitting on the chair, keeping her distance.

“How are you feeling?” she asks in a softer tone than she had used just moments before.

“I’m not sure yet,” he admits.

“You were a fool to ride all the way down here the way you did,” she says.

“Maybe. But I… I needed to be here, to see you, to talk to you,” he says and with his good hand reaches over to take her hand. For a moment he fears she’ll pull her hand away, but instead she interlaces their fingers and squeezes.

“I… I’ve had three days to think, to reflect what you being here means,” she admits softly.

_Three days! _

That brings him up short, but he refuses to interrupt her.

“I’ve spent months trying to figure out where everything went wrong, what I could have done different,” she says sighing sadly. “I need to apologize for how I reacted to your parentage.”

“Dany… no,” he tries but she shakes her head.

“I was afraid. For so long I had been alone, the only Targaryen. I felt like my whole identity, my whole destiny was to get back the Iron Throne in the name of my family. You weren’t the only one having an identity crisis with the news,” she lets out a sad laugh. “But I quickly got over that because I was happy, I finally had family and it happened to be the man I loved,” she sighs. “But then I remembered that my existence was a threat to anyone who wanted the Throne. That’s why Robert wanted me dead, why Cersei wanted me dead, for as long as I lived, I was a threat and my life was always going to be in danger because of it,” she admits.

“I didn’t want it Dany, I still don’t,” he tells her.

“I know you didn’t, you told me how much you hated ruling. My fear wasn’t from you taking the throne from me, it was others trying to get rid of me to press your claim. That fear only became stronger when I discovered I was pregnant. Unfortunately, I was proven right,” she explains, and he can’t help but show his guilt at his part in her life being in danger.

“I wish you would have told me all this,” he whispers, looking at their entwined hand.

“Part of me wishes that too, that instead of demanding your silence I had explained my fears to you. But admitting fears, telling someone about them… it’s not something I’ve ever had the luxury of doing,” she smiles sadly at him.

“Nor have I,” he confesses. “All my life I was raised as a bastard, told that my very existence was wrong. I couldn’t complain, I couldn’t yearn for anything,” he sighs. “I wanted you, I loved and still love you but when your whole life you’re that you were wonton and sinful in nature and wanting anything was wrong… I just couldn’t get passed that. So, I pushed you away, yes, a bit disgusted with our relationship but more disgusted with myself for being exactly what I was told I was. I may have discovered I was a true-born Targaryen, but I never felt more like a bastard than at that moment.”

“And now? What’s changed?” she asks.

“I’m done giving up all the good in my life,” he answers. “I finally realize that I deserve it, I deserve to be happy, just as you do.”

He can see tears gathering in her eyes but groans as he hurts himself trying to reach for her cheek. She tries to fuss about him but he’s having none of it. Instead, he pulls her onto the bed needing to hold her, have her back in his arms. She doesn’t put up much resistance and embraces him as tightly as he does her.

They both sob letting out all the emotions they’ve held back since his rejection of her the might of the feast. Apologies are muttered by them both and neither of them dares let’s go. It isn’t until something, or rather someone comes back to mind that he speaks again.

“I want to meet him, Dany,” he whispers against her hair, afraid of breaking whatever peace they had established between them. She sits up turning her back to him, wiping her tears, not looking at him and he fears that she’ll reject his request.

“When I found out, it was one of the happiest moments of my life. I was so eager to tell you that night, to tell you, you were right about the witch. That you had given me what I wanted most in my life,” she says softly.

He closes his eyes knowing full well he ruined that moment for her, for them.

“Even after I lost Rhaegal and Missandei, I was waiting for you to get here, to give me some sort of comfort and reveal to you that I was carrying our child. But instead, I still saw that disgust for me you had in Winterfell. Since then every single time I thought about you, thought about sending a message to let you know about my pregnancy, even as I was bleeding out on the birthing bed, all I could see is that disgust,” she admits tears taking over her voice.

He sits up, ignoring the pain in his head. He touches her shoulder with his good hand, and he feels her tense at his touch.

“Tell me how I can forget that. How I can erase that look from memory,” her voice pleading. “How do I get rid of this fear that you’ll give him the same look? That one day you’ll reject him that you’ll be disgusted by him, hate him for existing.”

“That won’t happen!” he exclaims turning her around to look at him. “I love you. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. I know I made a mistake, a terrible one. One that I will regret and pay for, for the rest of my life. I will never ever hate him or you, I will never feel anything but love for you both. I swear it Daenerys.”

He can see her doubt, her hesitation, and fear.

“I failed you. I know I did. And I know I lost your trust but the only thing I can give you is my word and my love. Please, I beg you to trust me again, to give me, give us one more chance,” he begs.

They look into each other eyes, both of them desperate for this chance, for their love. He leans in but notices that she doesn’t move, instead, letting him decide what to do.

He doesn’t hesitate, not anymore, and he swears to himself that never again.

He places his lips against hers, kissing her with all the love he can muster. He knows it’s the fear of rejection that causes her to hesitate but soon her lips reciprocate, and he swears this is the sweetest and most important kiss in his life.

It seems to end too soon, as she pulls away a small smile on her lips, which he’s sure matches his own. Slowly she nods.

“Okay,” she whispers.

She stands pulling away from him and for a moment he panics but a smile reassures him as she walks out of the room. He starts to feel nervous at the thought of meeting his child for the first time. It can’t be more than a few minutes before she returns, a bright smile on her face and the bundle he saw a few days before in her arms. She walks towards him the smile never wavering from her face, almost as if holding their child made it impossible.

“Sit up and lean back against the headboard,” she softly orders, and he immediately complies. She sits next to him, careful not to tousle the babe in her arms and for the first time, he looks upon his son’s face.

Ser Davos was right. He sees a lot of his own features in his son’s face. From his brown tufts of hair, his nose, cheeks, and chin. The only thing that reveals his Targaryen ancestry are his eyes, which are a slightly darker shade of violet than his mother.

“He’s beautiful, Dany,” he chokes out.

“Do you want to hold him,” she asks, and he can only nod. “I don’t want to hurt your hand.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” he says.

“At least one of us needs to worry about your wellbeing,” she says with a soft laugh as he forms a cradle with his arms. She gently places their babe in his arms and the weight of him makes it all real and makes all his emotions hit him at once.

He tries not to cry, to keep his eyesight clear but as he holds his son…

_Gods I have a son. _

“Jae, this is your Kepa,” Dany coos and his son looks at him with all the babe like innocence in the world.

“Jae?”

“Short for Jaehaerys.,” she explains. “The two men who he owes his life to have or had names that started with J’s.”

He lets that sink in for a moment.

“He’ll be King one day. King Jaehaerys was one of the best kings in our family and although I hold no love for the North, he was one of the Kings the North remembers fondly. I thought that maybe when I was gone his name would help him be a King for all Seven Kingdoms.”

“You didn’t have to,” he starts to argue.

“Jon, if it weren’t for his eyes, you would confuse him for a Stark,” she points out.

“A pretty Stark. Besides me no other Stark was considered pretty,” he points out.

“Then that might be your Valyrian features hidden behind Stark colors,” she says but his attention turns back onto his son.

They both sit there in silence looking at their son, her head leaning on his shoulder. He begins to feel overwhelmed and decides to express what he feels.

“I love you,” he says to the little boy in his arms. “I love you so much. I swear to you and your mother that I will spend the rest of my life showing you both how much I do. You won’t ever suffer what we did. You will be loved and wanted, and you will have both your parents at your side as you grow up.”

He hears Dany sniffle as she tries to fight her own tears. A thought suddenly comes to mind, a memory of what his Northern cousin had said.

“Dany,” he says.

“Yes?”

“We’re not… people are…they’re going to call him a…” he can’t even say the word but understanding seems to come to Dany.

“He’s not a bastard, Jon. Even if you and I never marry he is our son and a prince,” she tells him.

“People won’t care. They’re cruel, they’ll use any excuse to demonize him, to undermine him,” he tries to explain, trying his best not to panic.

“Let them try,” she challenges. He can see the fire in her eyes at the thought of having to protect their son.

“I don’t think anyone will, at least not in our faces,” he says.

“Then what should we do?”

He knows the solution. And he knows he’d be lying if this thought had not crossed his mind before prior to the revelation of his parentage.

“Marry me,” he says.

“What?”

“Marry me. Not just because of Jae, or because of duty, but because I love you and you love me. Marry me as Dany not the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and I’ll marry you as Jon and not as Aegon Targaryen.”

“Aegon?”

“A Targaryen alone in the world is a dangerous thing. I always wondered who could ever love a bastard and the answer turned out to be that…”

“Only a dragon can love another dragon,” she says and for some reason, those words ring completely true to him.

“Aye. So, it's only right that I be who I’m supposed to be, both for you and for Jae.”

“And will you be happy with that? With all of it, the ruling, the politics? With us?”

“Yes,” he confirms, and he can see her resolution in her eyes. “Will you marry me Dany?”

She kisses him confirming his beliefs.

And never once had he been happier than in that moment, his love kissing him and their son in his arms.


End file.
